


Rings

by ami_ven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: writerverse, F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ron, why can’t you just <i>tell</i> me where we’re going?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rings

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "singing bells" & "ginger" (with a bonus for romance)

“Ron,” said Hermione, hurrying a bit to keep up with his longer strides, “why can’t you just _tell_ me where we’re going?”

He slowed down a bit as they reached a fork in the path. One side led into the snow-covered trees, down a winding path that was still dusted with the snow that had long since turned to slush on the main trail. 

“Because, if I had told you, you’d have gone and looked it up. And that would have taken all the magic out of it.”

“We _study_ magic,” Hermione argued. “And, anyway, there’s no harm in telling me now, is there? I can’t look anything up out here.”

Ron smirked and took her hand, leading the way down the less-used snowy path. “I wouldn’t put anything past you, Hermione.”

She rolled her eyes, affectionately. “Ron…”

“Down this path, around the bend and across a very tiny bridge, is a place called Singing Bells.”

Hermione rearranged them so that Ron’s arm was around her waist, warm even through her winter coat. “Why is it called that?”

“There’s an old legend that if you stand in the exact center of the courtyard and kiss someone, and you hear the bells ring, then that person is your True Love. But there aren’t any bells,” he added quickly. “We climbed all over that place as kids, and we couldn’t even find anywhere they used to be.”

“Then why…?” asked Hermione, frowning. 

Ron shrugged. “It’s just a story. But sometimes when we came, Dad would bring little bells he’d hand around to us, and we’d ring them when he kissed Mum.”

“That’s really sweet,” she said.

“Yeah, well,” said Ron. “I thought about it, too, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it without knowing it wasn’t real.”

She smiled. “You’re sweet, too, Ron. But are you still going to kiss me in the middle of the courtyard?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Because— Oh, look!”

They had arrived at exactly the right time to see the sunset come slanting through the trees, casting golden light over the marble of an old ruin. It resembled an Ancient Greek temple, with a domed roof and ivy-covered pillars, looking like it had been taken straight from the pages of a fairy story.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione breathed, running a hand over the waist-high marble rail, work smooth over time. “How old is it? Who built it? What was it used for? Why isn’t it—?”

“You can look all of that up when we get home,” Ron laughed.

He held out his hand and she took it, letting him lead her out onto the mosaic courtyard. Hermione closed her eyes, waiting for her kiss, but Ron leaned over to press his lips to her temple.

“I will kiss you properly,” he said, when she frowned at him. “But I just… you know I’m serious about this, right? About us?”

She smiled. “I know, Ron.”

“So I want you to think about something for me. Really think, long and hard, before you say anything. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

Ron took both of her hands in both of his own. “Hermione Granger, will you marry me?”

“Ron—”

“Really think,” he interrupted. “I need you to be really sure. If you say yes, it means marrying into my whole family.

She smiled. “I love your family, Ron.”

“And you’ll get a hand-knitted jumper every Christmas.”

“I get one already.”

“Dad asking you about muggle gadgets all the time…”

“Unlike some people, he actually listens when I explain things.”

“And Mum always asking when we’re going to have kids…”

“All of them redheads?” she asked, smirking.

“Every last one,” he confirmed. “So, I want you to think—”

“Yes.”

“—very carefully, and— What?”

Hermione smiled. “Ronald Weasley, I have known you since we were eleven years old and I’ve loved you for almost as long. I don’t need to think about anything. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Ron reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a battered ring box. “This was my great-grandmother’s,” he said. “And I thought, for the time being…”

She held out a hand for him to slide the ring onto her finger. It wasn’t big or flashy but it had obviously been well-made and well cared-for. “It’s perfect,” said Hermione. “Don’t you dare go find another one.”

“They were married for seventy-eight years,” said Ron, softly. “Maybe the ring will be good luck?”

“Seventy-eight years won’t be _nearly_ enough,” said Hermione, and kissed him.

And all around them, the bells started to ring.

THE END


End file.
